Brat
by drama fixated
Summary: Inuyasha reflects on what very similar yet complete opposites Kagome and Kikyo are. "Kikyo was Kikyo and Kagome was Kagome. They were so different in vast ways that he didn't even know how he saw them as one and the same person." (InuKag)


Disclaimer: Inuyasha's not mine, he's all Rumiko Takahashi's. The only thing that belongs to me is this fic.

Author's Note: This was written for one of my best online friends, **Romy**. Thanks for the many laughs and hugs – and also for being there. You're the best. Here's my way of saying thank you to you . . hope you have a great day!

This is from Inuyasha's POV . . "she" is Kagome, unless clarified.

* * *

She really was a brat.

Stomping through the woods, and causing every single living creature to shrivel away and flee deep into the darkness, he huffed and flew up high to rest on a branch of a tree.

Once again his temper had gotten a hold of him, and his fury knew no bounds when it came to her.

She really tested his patience – what patience he had left, he reflected.

He huffed again and closed his eyes. And that showed him how different she was from Kikyo. She and Kikyo were not the same person – even if they looked alike and acted the same (in some ways). In the end, both would stand out on their own.

Kikyo was Kikyo and Kagome was Kagome. That was what he had come to realize. Now if only he could remember that, he wouldn't have to suffer from Kagome's wrath a hundred times over.

But still, he couldn't help comparing them. They were so different in vast ways that he didn't even know how he saw them as one and the same person.

Kagome looked eerily like Kikyo, but that was probably because of genetics and her being Kikyo's reincarnation, thanks to destiny and fate and all that garbage, he thought irritably.

Yet he saw Kikyo in her. In those defiant, stubborn eyes burning with determination, in those moments of teasing/abuse she gave him, and in the way her eyes clouded over when she was deep in thought . . .

But that didn't make her a brat. Well, it did. Sort of. Oh, he didn't know! He huffed yet again and crossed his arms, scowl fixed firmly on his indignant face. He just couldn't figure her out.

That was the problem – he couldn't figure out how one minute she was approachable and the next minute she was a rotten little devil, dead set on making him trip over and fall. Kagome was an unpredictable enigma to him.

And their similarities ended there. He shook his head and frowned. How could he confuse them with each other? They were _not_ the same. Looks deceived him too well, he had learned. Maybe that was the trick of females.

He rolled his eyes at that. Unlike Miroku, who – ahem – worshipped females and their nonsensical wiles, he didn't find them even mildly amusing, unless one of them gave him food and 24/7 attention.

"_That_'_s so chauvinistic of you!_"

Geez, he could hear her in his mind now. He could never escape from her. Mentally groaning at the thought, he tried to think about something else. Anything, as long as it took Kagome off his mind and out of his head.

He was on the edge of desperation. He _had_ to get her off his mind. _Now_. No matter what. He firmly resolved to himself that. It would be good – very good – for his health.

Yes, that would be it. It would be superb. He told himself that, and forced her out of his mind.

But still something niggled in his brain. After he had realized that she _wasn_'_t _Kikyo, no matter how badly he wanted for her to be - even a little similar to his past love – and she never would be Kikyo, he also realized that he was _happy_ that she wasn't.

That was what had been niggling at him just now. She wasn't, and never had been Kikyo, and he was fine with that. More than fine.

Why was he okay with it? Was it because he accepted her for who she was, not the person whom she had been before? Or was it because of something else? Because – because he loved her?

He swallowed at that. It was hard to believe; before, he had been resolute that he wouldn't like her, that he wouldn't love her, but all that had fallen to pieces.

He just didn't know what to do now. He didn't know what to do when it came to her. She caused him to feel like that, to feel this, and also feel unbearably lost, as if he was drifting somewhere, waiting for her to find him in the impalpable blackness.

An ache filled his heart, one he knew only she could fill, and he sighed heavily. There was no use in doing anything about it now. He had to accept it –that he loved her, and there was nothing he could do about it. He could only watch while she was happy and loved another person. Someone who was so far from him. The exact opposite.

A smirk appeared on his face – it figured that she would always go for guys who were unlike him. They weren't arrogant, rude or lost in the past. They were the bloody epitome of perfection . . or at least, how close a Perfect Guy would be, if he existed.

He scowled for a moment, and then shook his head. What good would it do him to pine for her like this? If or when she realized what she truly felt for him, if she didn't know what it was already, then it would be a better end for the both of them. More so if she accepted it.

Maybe he was hoping too much.

At that last thought, he jumped off the branch, being careful not to make a sound, and stomped off somewhere in the forest darkness, riding his mind of all thoughts about her.

So this was how his life was to be from now on. He flew up above the night sky, glaring slightly at the merrily twinkling stars. It was as if they were mocking him, teasing him to no end.

With a silent _whoosh_, he landed back on the ground and began walking . . to where? He didn't know, or cared. As long as he was going somewhere, somewhere far away from her, he was fine.

Looking around him, he felt, for the first time in a long while, at peace. He still felt hopeful, frustrated and resigned, but now he felt . . . happy. His emotions weren't confining and all the angst he had was gone, fading quickly. As if it had never been there before.

Maybe he didn't feel happy. No annoyingly bright smile was on his face. And he wasn't chirping giddily like a fool. So what then did he feel? Nothing . . .

. . . Was it nothing? It had to be something – it just couldn't be nothing. His eyebrows furrowed in thought. And sighing heavily, he told himself to forget about it and just go home.

. . . But he couldn't forget it. Not something like this. Something that had changed his life, like she had changed his. Her and everything he felt bunched up together. He squeezed his eyes tightly and told himself to face it. This was the way his life was meant to be. He couldn't change anything about it, and he doubted he ever would.

_All thanks to her_, he shook his head in disbelief and amazement. All the countless times she had yelled at him, told him to "sit" and worried/cared for him . . . he just didn't know what to say or think about her anymore.

She left him at a loss for words . . . and he knew that wasn't in a bad way. Everything she had done for him had made him mesmerized and astounded by her. The way she was forgiving, a tad bit clueless, loving . . .

He had to stop all this gushing before he went mad. It had gotten him nowhere – and would never get him anywhere.

Feh. He kicked a stone and looked at the stars once more. Now they weren't teasing him . . they were just there, granting people's wishes and being beautiful so that they could be gawked and wondered at.

He scoffed at his train of thought, and continued walking.

Then after a few minutes, he looked back in the direction of their house. So she was impossible to deal with, he decided, but that was a good thing. It was something that made her Kagome, not Kikyo. Just like being a brat made her uniquely Kagome, not anyone else.

She may be a brat, but to him that was the best thing in the world that she could be.

She was the best thing – or to be politically correct, the best _person_ – in his world. Brat or not.


End file.
